


pressure point

by efreet



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: AbeMiha Ship Week 2017, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 07:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11157489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/efreet/pseuds/efreet
Summary: Mihashi gets motion sick. Takaya has a solution.





	pressure point

**Author's Note:**

> this is for abemiha ship week day 7: free day. i actually finished one day early, but it's june 10th my time!

Mihashi had his forehead pressed against the glass of the bus window. In the seat next to him, Takaya could only see the miserable hunch of Mihashi’s shoulders, and the tense curve of his spine. Briefly, he considered reaching out to put a hand on Mihashi’s shoulder, but it would probably only make Mihashi jump out of his skin and slam his head against the window.

Instead, Takaya cleared his throat and said, as gently as possible, “Mihashi?”

Mihashi did jump, but luckily not hard enough to bang his head into the window. When he turned to look at Takaya, his face was screwed up in discomfort, eyes watery and nose wrinkled. Like all of Mihashi’s expressions, it was comically exaggerated, almost too honest to be real.

“Are you okay?” Takaya asked.

“Mmmm. M’okay,” Mihashi muttered. “F-Feel sick.” His hands clenched at the hem of his jersey, and his eyes darted around guiltily, like he was worried Takaya would yell at him for getting nauseous.

Truthfully, Takaya was tempted. He’d reminded Mihashi no less than four times the day before to take preventive medicine before the trip, _and_ sent him a text to remind him about it. Takaya couldn’t imagine how Mihashi had forgotten, but he’d learned that yelling at Mihashi was like yelling at a small, helpless animal; they didn't understand, and you just felt bad afterward.

“Did you forget to take medicine for motion sickness?” Takaya asked, just to make sure.

Mihashi stared at him, clearly terrified. Takaya waited.

Mihashi shook his head frantically. Takaya waited some more.  

Finally, Mihashi nodded, his expression so guilty that one might have thought he was admitting to a murder charge. Takaya, with great effort, restrained himself from sighing.  

“Give me your hand,” Takaya said. He had found that Mihashi responded best to clear directions, at least when he was calm enough to hear them.

Mihashi thrust his hand out, almost hitting Takaya in his haste to obey. Takaya placed his palm against Mihashi’s, like he had done so many times before on the baseball field.

Mihashi’s hand wasn’t cold, but it was definitely sweaty. And shaky, but Takaya had a feeling that was more residual fear than because of his motion sickness. Takaya’s fingers traced across Mihashi’s palm, and rested against his wrist. The skin there was soft and warm, tanned from the summer sun but as smooth as anything. Takaya's fingers ghosted across the crisscrossing veins and came to a rest at a point in the center of Mihashi's wrist.

Mihashi made a high-pitched squeaking noise, which Takaya ignored. If he got embarrassed now, there would be no helping either of them.

“There’s, uh,” Takaya cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks. “My mom said, there’s a pressure point here. Keeps you from getting nauseous. I don’t know if it really works, but it’s supposed to.”

Mihashi goggled at him, his eyes flying wide and mouth opening and closing like a goldfish’s. He looked down at Takaya’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, as though he couldn’t believe this was happening. His face was as red as Takaya's felt, but he didn't pull his hand back. 

Takaya held onto Mihashi’s wrist, his thumb pressing light into the other’s soft skin, and waited. After a long moment, Mihashi leaned more fully back into his seat, his shoulders slack. There was still a little red in his cheeks, but he was smiling that silly smile he wore when he was at his most relaxed. Whether the pressure point thing had worked or not, at least he didn’t look as miserable as before. 

The bus rolled on. Takaya held Mihashi’s wrist in his hand gently, like it was something precious.

**Author's Note:**

> i havent written any substantial fic in at least a year so this is probably... bad. also it's the shortest thing in the world, im sorry.


End file.
